


nothing good ever happens after two a.m.

by PrincessButter87



Series: One Shots [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Coma, Confessions, F/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 13:13:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19768936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessButter87/pseuds/PrincessButter87
Summary: MJ wakes up in the middle of the night with the realization that Peter could get hurt on the job and die at any time. Fueled by pure adrenaline and the desire to tell him how she feels immediately, she gets in her car and hits the gas. But one drunk driver who runs a red changes her plans.





	nothing good ever happens after two a.m.

**Author's Note:**

> for danica

_MJ_

I couldn’t even tell you what I was dreaming about, to be honest.

All I know was that I sat bolt upright at three in the morning and there was only one thought running through my mind.

_I have to tell Peter._

_I have to tell him that I love him._

I grabbed my phone, pulling it towards me too fast and both unplugging it and blinding myself.

Peter’s Instagram profile picture had the little green dot next to it.

_Me: you still up?_

_parallelparker: yeah, my neighbors have been screaming at each other for hours_

_parallelparker: honestly I can’t tell if they’re fighting or doing the do_

_parallelparker: what’s your excuse_

_Me: I’ll tell you in a bit_

_Me: get ready to buzz me in_

_parallelparker: what_

I didn’t answer. He knew I was coming over anyways.

Before I could talk myself into staying in bed, I was pulling on leggings and a sweatshirt, and grabbing my keys off my dresser. I wasn’t worried about sneaking out of my apartment, either. Who cares if I woke up my parents? I was telling Peter. Tonight. Nothing was going to stop me.

The elevator seemed especially slow tonight, but luckily my brain was running on too much adrenaline to overthink. I didn’t know if I was going to kiss him, or tell him, or how I was going to tell him. I didn’t consider the possibility that maybe he just wouldn’t feel the same about me as I did about him.

All that mattered right now was getting there. That was the first step. The rest would come later.

But it had to be tonight. Because this was Peter, and he was Spider-Man, and every minute I wasted was a moment he could be out fighting a bad guy and getting himself killed, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I never told him.

The doors opened to the parkade, and I slipped between them before they were fully opened, barreling towards my car. I unlocked it and practically dove in, jamming the keys into the ignition and pulling my seatbelt on and shifting gears, barely checking my mirrors before I pulled out of my spot, heading out of the garage.

Peter didn’t live too far from me, and it was late in the middle of the week, so I wasn’t expecting the drive to take more than a couple minutes.

That was good. No time to overthink. No thinking, just doing.

I stopped at a light, and found myself thinking about Peter. About soft curls and pretty brown eyes and that adorable stutter of his. About every time his hand had landed on my lower back as he was squeezing behind me in a classroom, or every mission he’d told Ned and I about excitedly, presenting his evidence and his theories, letting us pick them apart so we could keep him as safe as possible. I found myself fantasizing about him sitting in the car with me, hand on top of mine on the gear shift, smiling that cute, soft smile at me.

The light turned green, and I snapped out of it, hitting the gas.

I heard the blare of a horn, and then…

_Impact._

The car spun, out of control, across the intersection. As it wrapped around a pole, my head hit the window, and the light pole seemed to go out.

Or maybe that was just me.

_Peter_

It’d been twelve minutes. Maybe I was being paranoid, but it took five minutes to get from MJ’s to my place. I knew that. I’d timed it.

My…sense…thing was warning me, though. I knew this feeling. The slow start to the ache in my brain and the tightness in my chest and the sinking of my stomach.

Something was wrong.

I followed that feeling, getting dressed, running out of the apartment to the elevator and taking it down to the lobby, and then let it guide me.

Walking towards MJ’s building, the feeling got stronger. Something was getting worse.

And then I saw it.

Two cars, both absolutely decimated. MJ’s was wrapped around a flickering light post, blood splattered against the driver’s side window, the windshield cracked and broken too much to see through it.

The driver of the other car swung his door open, falling out and coughing. I ran over.

“What happened?”

He looked up at me, and slurred, “She-she came out of nowhere-”

I was pulling out my phone now, dialing 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I- um- I came across an accident. It’s at…forty-fifth and one seventy-first street.”

“First responders are on their way. How many vehicles are involved?”

“It looks like just two.”

“Are either of them smoking, flaming, or giving any other indication that they might combust?”

“Uh, I don’t- I don’t think so.”

“How many people were involved?”

“Two. One of them…her head hit the window, I think. There’s blood all over it. I don’t think she’s conscious. The other one is. He’s…he sounds like he’s been drinking.”

He glanced up at me from where he was sitting on the sidewalk now, half of his face swelling and red, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead. “Snitches get stitches,” he growled, but it wasn’t very threatening considering he was swaying.

“Did you witness the actual accident?”

“No, no, I was just…out for a walk and I sort of stumbled upon it. How far away is an ambulance?”

“Four minutes, sir. Stay with me.”

\---

A few minutes later, ambulances and police vehicles pulled up. I hung up on the operator and watched as paramedics pulled MJ out of her car and put her on a stretcher, rushing her into the ambulance.

I didn’t know why she was in such a rush to see me. And now it was killing me.

May ran up behind me.

“Honey, I saw your text, are- are you okay?”

“Can we go to the hospital?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Of course we can,” she assured me, turning me away from the wreckage. “Let’s go.”

We ran back to the apartment, got in May’s car, and sped to the hospital.

\---

When we got there, MJ’s parents were sitting in the waiting room, hands gripped so tight their knuckles were white.

I didn’t have the courage to go over to them, so I tried to steer clear, but I wasn’t so lucky tonight.

“Peter?” Mrs. Jones asked, voice shaking.

I turned to see her, and wanted to curl up and die when I did. Her eyes were filled with tears, nose bright red, hair a mess. Mr. Jones just had his head bowed, refusing to look at me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“No, no, don’t be. You called the ambulances. I owe you my thanks.”

I shook my head. “She was coming to see me. I-I don’t know why, but…this is my fault, and I’m so sorry.”

May gripped my shoulders. “None of this is your fault, Peter.”

I took a deep, shaky breath, and sat down next to Mrs. Jones.

“I’m scared,” I admitted.

Both her and May gave me an empathetic shoulder squeeze.

“Me too,” Mrs. Jones responded.

\---

MJ ended up comatose. The doctors said that they couldn’t predict an outcome, and that it could go either way at a moment’s notice. All we could do was be here for her when we could, provide her with some company.

 _It couldn’t hurt,_ said one doctor, _and it saves most people from laying in bed awake all night._

I went home. I needed some sleep.

Honestly, I was hoping that when I woke up, I’d see the little green dot next to her profile picture, and send her a meme and she’d instantly respond.

I crawled into bed, still clad in the sweats I’d worn to the hospital. I pulled the blankets up around me and a pillow to my chest.

Maybe I was delusional from the sleep deprivation or the stress or the dehydration from crying, but I found myself calling MJ.

_Rrrrrrrrring._

_Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrring._

_Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring._

_Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring._

“Hi, this is Michelle Jones, I can’t talk right now but hopefully you can.”

_Beep._

“Hey. Um, it’s…Peter. I…I don’t know what was so important that you drove over here in the middle of the night and got into that accident. I don’t…I can’t imagine what it could’ve been. Nothing makes sense. I just…I want you to call me back so badly, just so I know it wasn’t my fault. Because it feels like it is my fault and…I feel sick, MJ. Come back and-and it’ll make it all better, and…”

I broke down, crying.

“I love you, MJ. I wish you’d gotten here in one piece so I could’ve told you. I love you.”

I hung up, then tossed my phone onto my desk and turned my face into the pillow, crying.

\---

The next day, I went…a little crazy. I found a bunch of Jane Austen and poetry and filled a bag with books at then went to the hospital.

I sat down next to MJ, and opened the first book.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife,” I began, voice crackling as I read.

I read for hours. I sounded like I’d been crying, too, which sucked, but eventually I traded that in for just sounding exhausted.

We got through all of _Pride and Prejudice_ before her parents arrived. I took Pride and left the rest of the books in MJ’s room. No point in lugging them around, and this way her parents could read for her, too.

\---

“I won’t let go, ‘cause being alone hurts more than chasing someone who’s left,” I read, trying to avoid looking at MJ.

It’d been a week, now. No improvement. No turn for the worse, though, so I kept reading.

I figured some day I’d look back on this and be grateful I’d spent these moments with her. They might be in short supply, and I wanted a monopoly.

“But if you’ve left, aren’t I already alone, and surviving it…”

MJ was entirely unresponsive.

\---

“The universe took it’s time on you, precisely so you could something distinct from everyone else. So when you doubt how you were created, you doubt an energy greater than us both.”

Two weeks had gone by.

No changes.

The universe really was taking its time.

\---

On the days where I finished reading a book to her, I’d start telling her about school, things she’d missed. Caught her up on Ned and Betty’s on and off relationship, Flash’s latest stupid livestreams.

I wanted so badly to be able to talk to Mr. Stark about all of this. I wanted to ask him how to deal with this, if he had any advice. I wanted him to sit with me when I couldn’t stop crying.

But he was gone. And MJ was close behind.

\---

“I still search for you in crowds, in empty fields and soaring clouds. In city lights, and passing cars, on winding roads and wishing stars. I wonder where you could be now, for years I’ve not said your name out loud. And longer since I called you mine – time has passed for you and I. But I have learnt to live without, I do not mind – I still love you anyhow.”

She wasn’t getting any better. She was just laying there, completely still, surrounded by blinking lights and beeping machines.

I dug my notebook out of my backpack, and started to write my own poetry.

\---

I’d finally finished one that I liked. I looked up to read it to her, a part of me hoping she was waking up so I didn’t have to read this. But her eyes were closed, her lips were still grey, machines were still breathing for her.

 _I didn’t mean for this to happen_  
I didn’t mean for you to get hurt  
I was so scared of putting you in danger because of my identity,  
and now I have,  
and I don’t know anything  
I don’t know what was so important  
that you had to tell me  
in person  
at three in the morning  
I don’t know why you had to tell  
me  
All I know is that this  
the beeps and blinking lights,  
the sound of artificial breathing,  
the eerily even heart rate,  
this is all because of me  
and I don’t even know why.

I dropped my head forward, letting myself cry. Painful sobs wracked my whole body, and I wanted to just…lay down on the floor and curl up.

And then I heard a soft gasp.

I looked up, to see MJ’s eyes half-open.

\---

For a while, there was a whirlwind of nurses and doctors and tests and, of course, her parents. I gave them some space, sat in the waiting room.

My notebook was in my lap. It used to simply contain a few physics formulas, some practice questions. Now it was covered in scribbled, terrible poetry and water damage from my tears.

And MJ was awake and alive, and that was amazing, but I was terrified.

Part of me didn’t want to know why. I was terrified I’d done something, that this was all my fault.

“Peter.”

I looked up, and Mrs. Jones was coming into the waiting room.

“Yeah?”

“She asked to talk to you for a moment.”

I stood up, tucking my notebook under my arm. “O-okay.”

Mr. Jones came into the room, joining Mrs. Jones.

“She’s a little…foggy, so just…go slow with her. You might have to repeat yourself a couple times.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’ll, um, yeah. See you.”

I walked past them, down the hallway to MJ’s room.

There was a nurse in there, checking her vitals, writing on a clipboard.

“Can-”

MJ coughed a little.

“Can he and I have a moment alone?”

The nurse looked at me, and then back to MJ, and smiled kindly. “I’ll be back in five.”

MJ gave her a soft smile, and the nurse left.

I sat down next to MJ, opening my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice raspy. “That’s why.”

I stared at her.

“I-I was on my way to tell you that, and…I guess I wasn’t paying as much attention to the road as I usually do. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t- it wasn’t your fault.”

She huffed a little, laughing softly.

“What?”

“Are you gonna try to convince me it was yours?”

I stared at her. A million thoughts raced through my mind. How well she knew me, how easily she could read me, how much I loved her too-

“I missed you,” I admitted, half-laughing and half-crying when I did.

She stared at me. “I didn’t miss you.”

“What?”

“You were right here, weren’t you? Every day, for hours. It’s weird, I started dreaming about…all these poems and stories. You were reading them to me.”

I smiled, despite the tears on my cheeks. “I was.”

“Would I be absolutely delusional to think that maybe it’s because-”

“I love you, too.”

She broke out in this huge smile. “Oh, thank god, or this could’ve been so awkward.”

I laughed, dropping my head, and she was laughing too, and I could feel the weight lifting off my shoulders.

“Hey,” she whispered, reaching out her hand. I slipped mine into hers, and she squeezed. Weakly, but it was there.

I leaned forward and rested my forehead on our hands, and just let myself…feel it. All of it.

When the nurse came back, and I had to leave, MJ squeezed my hand again, a little stronger this time, and gave me a small smile.

“Go home and sleep, Peter,” she told me, voice raspy. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

\---

We spent the next few weeks helping her through rehab. She had tons of physiotherapy to do. I helped her relearn how to walk, helped her keep her balance when she was doing exercises.

“I’m lucky to have a super strong helper, aren’t I?” she teased, holding my forearms in a death grip while she tried to walk.

“I’m luckier,” I said softly, shifting my weight a little to support her better. “Come on, one more step.”

“I’m tired,” she whined, mostly jokingly.

“If you take three more steps, I’ll take you to dinner somewhere that isn’t a hospital cafeteria.”

Her expression lost all humor. “Like a- like a date?”

I hesitated. “I mean, um, yeah. Only if-if you want it to be a date.”

She took a step forward, pulling my arms so I couldn’t step back. “That sounds perfect.”


End file.
